Addiction
by NeedsmoarDelta
Summary: Def:the state of being enslaved to a habit or practice or to something that is psychologically or physically habit-forming. A series of angsty drabbles featuring various cartoon characters. The question is, what is your vice?
1. But Where's the Rum Gone?

_A/N: I think I've spent too much time reading those AA posters in my treatment center. __These drabbles will be very angsty and dark, so if you can't handle drinking, depression, cutting or drug use, it's best you stop reading now. _

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_'But __Where's__ the Rum Gone?'-Brian's Drabble_

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"I can stop drinking anytime I want to!"

"I don't need to drink; it just helps me when I'm stressed."

You know that these statements aren't fooling anyone; that they are completely cliché. So why do you drink yourself into oblivion every night?

You stare at the bottle, filled to the brim with clear liquid, as if it holds all of your secrets. And you know that when you take that first sip, that tantalizing first sip, all of the secrets you've kept, all of the feelings you've bottled up, will disappear for a while.

After that first sip, you can't stop until you see no more, falling into that comforting feeling of complete numbness. You are invincible, you feel nothing. Until you wake up, mouth dry and the smell of vomit on your breath. And then it starts all over again, a vicious cycle you refuse to break.


	2. A Glass Horse

_A/N: I know Rin from Fruits Basket__( which is an anime and a Manga, for anyone who didn't know that)__ is an obscure character to write about, but this scen__ario kind of seemed to fit Rin- not that I'm making her emo or anything. There is a distinct difference between emo and depression and I'm trying to realistically portray depression. As for the sewing pins, Rin seems to be the type that would make her own clothes. _

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_'A Glass Horse'- Rin's Drabble_

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The pain itself runs so deep it feels like your chest will burst open with the overwhelming melancholy that covers every inch of you. Heavy feelings of guilt and utter hopelessness only add to the mix- all at once it's too much.

You look for anything, anyone who can ease the pain, the absolute despair that consumes you. Your eye falls on something shiny; the pins you use for sewing and draping. You pick one up, studying it in the fading light.

You said you'd never be a cutter. You thought it was too ridiculous for words. But as you drag the pin across your skin and you feel pain shoot up your arm, it feels right. Like you deserve it. But the physical pain is too much- you stop before blood was drawn. And, in the morning, you feel sick.

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Hatori pulls you aside, asking you to roll up your long sleeves. Tohru looks at you, tears of concern welling up in her bright blue eyes. And you run. Because you just can't stand the kindness anymore. You don't want to deal with people. Except for one person. But he is no longer there.


	3. Straitjacket Feeling

_A/N: The sensation I'm trying to capture here is known as disassociating and it usually occurs as a side effect of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder or Generalized Anxiety Disorder. From personal, experience, I can tell you, it can become quite addictive__ but at the same time, scary as hell. I__f that makes any sense whatsoever._

_'Straitjacket Feeling'- Kyle's Drabble_

The sound of pencil scribbling on paper is heard, you know that you are writing, but at the same time, you are detached, as if you are watching the scene from above.

You know that it's happening again, and you pinch yourself in a futile effort to stop it. But this feeling is like a force that cannot be controlled and you find yourself falling into that state of nothing. Terrifying, yet at the same time exhilarating- you never want to stop; it's the best high.

Until the bell rings, jolting you out of your self-induced numbness.

You look down at your paper, covered in random doodles and words. Not an X or Y in sight.

With a sigh, you pull down your green ushanka and walk out of the classroom, all alone. The one person you'd reach out to disappears into the crowd, her long brown hair newly streaked with bright pink makes you smile.

Until you remember that summer night, so long ago. She said it was the drugs that made her act that way. You trace the small scar on your left cheek, the only physical manifestation of what happened.

But emotional scars take longer to heal than the physical.


	4. Freedom is not so sweet

_A/N: I generally believe that a person could become addicted to anything, and I have seen people become, if not addicted, at least compulsive when it comes to skipping school. This is __obviously__ an AU Lilo, who has grown up without Stitch. _

_'Freedom is not so sweet' – Lilo's Drabble_

You slip out of the classroom; no one notices your abrupt departure. Snapping your gum in a careless way, you walk down the abandoned hallways as if you own them. In a way, you do.

People avoid you when you walk by; you blame it on your clothing, your hair, and your piercings. But you know better.

Walking out of those big double doors is like a breath of fresh air, you crave the feeling of unrestrained freedom that pumps through your veins; the burst of adrenaline that gives you a fit of the giggles.

You turn right, another left; continuing onward through a dizzying maze of tiny streets, unsure of where you are.

But that doesn't matter.

You wander; the sky changes from the bright sun of the afternoon to the inky black night to the first few pink rays of the morning.

You climb through an open window, crossing your fingers that _she_ doesn't hear you sneaking back indoors.

Too late; you hear the noises that become a familiar routine- the muffled cursing, the heavy, stumbling steps, glass smashing against a wall.

And there's nothing you can do but lie under your covers and wait for it to end.


	5. Anxiety ain't it fun kids?

_A/N: I found a Lip Balm Anonymous site on day and I knew that just had to be used. Hopefully this turned out angsty enough, because I found an addiction to lip balm to be quite amusing. Anyway, the way Flanders is acting is anxiety/PTSD/OCD ish. I'm not a therapist, but I listen to them all day. ;)_

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_'Anxiety, ain't it fun, kids?'- Flanders' drabble_

You shut the door behind you; humming some psalm- you can't remember which one. You check and double check your coat pockets; keys, cell phone, mini bible- wait. There is something wrong, you can feel it. The smooth, familiar plastic tube is not there.

Beads of sweat run down your forehead, you lips feel dry and parched. You lick them, but that doesn't soothe the panic rising in your chest. You can't leave the house without it. Not again. Not after what happened.

_You lie on the baked, black pavement, blood running down your temples. You try to sit up but the movement is too much, you fall back on the street with a groan. __You touch your head; you hand is covered in crimson. _

You tear through the house, pulling clothes out of drawers, throwing food out of the pantry. Finally, you find what you're looking for, and all is right with the world.

You often wonder why they chose you that hot summer day, why they thought you were worthy of such treatment. But there are no easy answers to such questions.


	6. Nocturnal Symphony

_A/N: This is for Furby, who besides being totally awesome and putting up with all my…stuff, she was the first to review this. _

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Nocturnal Symphony- Kimi's Drabble

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The feeling of restlessness makes you want to rip your hair out right at the roots. You pace; your bare feet making slapping noises against the polished wood floors. But this doesn't stop the feelings coursing through your veins, telling you to run away.

So you do.

Gravel bites into your feet; you wince in pain but continue onward. You hope that the further you run, the demons you are facing, the memories of your home, of the life you used to live, will disappear.

They don't.

Instead, you end up back home just as it's growing light, your hair tangled and your feet nearly black with dirt. Your pajama bottoms drag on the ground, the palms of your hands bleed from your nails digging into them.

You crawl into bed, the only way you can truly escape your living nightmare.


	7. Sweet Charity

_A/N: Yeah a short one this time around, dedicated to the lovely __otherrealmwriter__. I was thinking of that episode where __Bloo__ abandons Mac for the rich kid with the paddleball…I forgot the name of the actual episode, but you know what I mean, right?_

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Sweet Charity- Mac's Drabble

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You know what's going to happen. So why do you allow yourself to be hurt by him? Sure, he's your best friend. But that doesn't mean he can't cause you pain. As you stare at the ice cream slowly melting in your hands, you wonder.

How many times is this going to happen?

How many times will you turn to this….destruction?

You grab a spoonful of the cold treat in your shaking hands. With agonizing slowness, you place it in your mouth and swallow.

You can feel its effects within seconds; those precious last moments before you lose yourself completely. Because once it starts, you know you can't stop.


	8. Out of Sight

_A/N: I thought it would be interesting to see what would happen if Timmy followed in his parents footsteps when it came to his own children. Addiction to work is a horrible thing, in my opinion. _

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_Out of Sight- Timmy's Drabble_

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Her voice is quiet, desperate. She is begging you, although she has more dignity than to fall down on her knees and plead. Instead, she asks in her own way.

"Dad, they told me I need to go to the hospital……I just can't do this anymore. I'm tired…..so damn tired of fighting this."

You try to block it out. She had been getting better, right? And so if you don't hear it, it doesn't exist. The phone on your desk rings, you glance at the Caller ID. Some bigwig CEO. You run your hand through your hair, exhaling loudly. Work was way too stressful sometimes. But you love every minute of it.

You coo into the cell phone, "Sweetie, I just can't get off work right now. I'll see you tonight and we'll go then."

You hang up the phone, blissfully unaware of how much damage you have done with those words. And you'll never know, no matter how many times she tells you how hurt she was by it. Out of sight, out of mind.


End file.
